


Make Me Monstrous

by CaptainSwank



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other, Voyeurism, mental manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26944180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSwank/pseuds/CaptainSwank
Summary: It feels good to worship.
Relationships: The Beholding/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 76





	Make Me Monstrous

**Author's Note:**

> While I was at work today, I saw a tweet about this on my feed. I had trouble focussing on work for the rest of the day.
> 
> Just so you're prepared, there's one throwaway Corruption line. Tagged "mildly dubious consent" and "mental manipulation" because of the Archivist's relationship with the Eye.

Jon lay on his bed, spread out like a particularly satiated starfish. Even though he was conscious of the ludicrous positioning of his body, he couldn’t be bothered to recline in a more dignified manner. That might seem like a perfectly reasonable thought process: why not make oneself comfortable in the privacy of one’s home? If no one is watching, why not relax? 

But Jon knew that he was being watched.

He’d felt the eyes on him for some time. In the late afternoon he’d been feeling restless, yet sluggish. There was something that he needed, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to figure out exactly what. He considered devoting his focus to reading a book or watching the news, but he couldn’t seem to muster the energy to even try.

It had occurred to him, then, that he might be hungry. He wasn’t in touch with the myriad demands of his body even on the best of days. So he thought that if he took the systematic approach and tried to fulfill them all one by one, he’d begin to feel a little better.

But when he stood there, blinking stupidly in the sick glow of the open fridge, it slowly came to him that he hadn’t really had real food in his flat for some time. He resolved to venture out and bring back some takeaway. He’d have a lie-down afterwards and he’d feel better and he’d be free of the fog that seemed to permeate his mind. 

At that point, he had dismissed the pressing sense of surveillance out of hand. The pulsing in his head must have clouded his thinking. 

And when he stepped out onto the street, it was easy enough to attribute the observation to the countless eyes around him. Maybe he  _ was  _ being watched and followed, he had thought to himself resignedly. Maybe one of the powers had sent yet another minion after him to hurt him in some new and horrible way. 

At that point he had raised his own eyes from the ground and realized that he had walked past all the places that he’d usually go to eat. He looked up and saw a young man with pain in his eyes duck into an old bookshop, and then he knew. He knew what was watching him, he knew what he needed, and he knew that  _ he _ was the one that his god had sent to bring hurt and to bring horror.

And he had stepped into the shop.

So as he lay on his bed he tried to care about how stupid he must look. He tried to care about the eyes that watched him even now. And he tried to feel bad about what he had done, but he couldn’t do any of those things. He could only feel good.

Better than good, in fact. Better than he had in days, maybe weeks. He couldn’t remember feeling so full and warm and content and  _ complete _ . He tried to conjure up the look in the man’s eyes when he had crowded him into a dark corner in the back of the shop to ask his questions. He tried to remember the agony that had been inflicted when he dredged up those fresh memories of the man’s need to dig, dig, _ dig _ into the rot in his body because he just had to see who was living  _ inside _ . But all he could remember was the fear and the filthy shameful pleasure that came with it.

He knew what he had to do with that fullness, and his fingers itched for the recorder that he knew would be close at hand. But the need to record, though ever-present, was less urgent now. His awareness of his self, the awesome exquisite wholeness of his self, seemed worthy of his contemplation in this moment. The thing that watched him seemed satisfied in his choice.

He was feeling present, now, in a manner he had never before experienced. And he was experiencing the needs of his body in a whole new way. The real urgency he was feeling, this new urgency, was building deep inside him, and building hot and sweet between his legs. 

He slowly brought his hand down to feel the shape and the hardness of his cock through his trousers. He rubbed it slowly and gasped at the sensation, and he thought about what he was about to do. The handful of times that he had touched himself like this, it had been out of curiosity, not need, and it had been nothing special. 

This was special.

Those few times before had been fast and furtive. He’d been under his blankets with the lights shut off and his eyes clenched closed. But now he peeled off his shirt and dropped it on the floor beside his bed. Now he slowly ran his hands across his chest and down his sides. And when he slid his trousers off his hips he parted his legs wide, spread open for his master to see.

To be so exposed and not to hide his pleasure went against his every instinct. But with every layer he bared to the Eye he was rewarded. 

Its piercing gaze pricked his skin and made him shiver. His body felt sensitized in ways it never had before, and in places he had never thought to touch. And the Beholding must be touching him too, must be caressing his skin and stroking him from the inside, because how could he possibly feel so much, and feel so good?

He worked his hand slow and loose around his cock, giving into this force he couldn’t see. Was this the work of his own need, his own desire, or its command? He found it didn’t matter, and the hot kick of bliss with which he was rewarded made him hitch his hips and moan.

As his breath came quicker and his pulse thudded thick within him, he was suddenly possessed with the knowledge of how best to please this thing. He was too far gone in his devotion to even consider withholding the gift, and so he slowly turned himself over and raised himself up on his knees.

He slid two fingers between his lips, the side of his face pressed up against his pillow. His other hand kept its steady grip upon his cock, stroking it slow to prolong the display. And then he put a slippery finger inside himself and cried out at how the Watcher liked it. Jon liked it too. He liked it so much that soon his body was willing to accept the second, and he fucked himself open while an ancient power watched.

He was whimpering and gasping louder and louder, and pulling his cock faster and faster, and when he tried to spread his fingers to open himself wide for what beheld him it bestowed upon him a shock of pleasure so great it made him scream. His eyes shot open and he stroked himself through it while time disappeared. When he pulled his fingers free and rolled away to the side of his bed he couldn’t even find it in himself to be disgusted by his sheets.

He lay there and he stared at the ceiling as he tried to catch his breath and collect his mind. He tried to hold on to the fear for himself, the fear  _ of  _ himself and what he might be capable of doing. But he was overwhelmed by the thrill of exhilaration; the excitement of not knowing exactly what he would do next. He shouldn’t be indulging in this, he told himself. He shouldn’t be  _ enjoying  _ it. He reached blindly for his phone to see how much time had actually passed. 

But operating it one-handed in this state proved a challenge, and he accidentally opened the phone’s camera. Its front-facing camera. The Eye must have been watching still, because he touched the screen, and he captured the image.

He almost didn’t recognize the man in the picture. There was something soft and placid about him, and something else that was sharp and dark. And it looked as if he was almost glowing. He stared at his naked open self for a moment more, and then he went to delete the photo. He didn’t.

He swiped his finger across the screen and switched the function to “video.” 


End file.
